Top Cat
by Otoshigo
Summary: [Sequel to Benefactor] Adrien and Marinette had an understanding... Or at least, he thought they did. Until someone decides to muscle in on what's his. [Marichat]


A/N: Y'all kept asking for more, so here's more. The tone is completely different than Benefactor, so it'll just sit pretty here on its own. Rated a bit higher for cursing.

~o~

It had been many weeks now since Adrien embraced his role as Marinette's... something. There wasn't really a translatable word for it. (Of course, Plagg was absolutely no help.) Benefactor didn't really fit anymore, or was a mere part of it. The closest was 'Liege' and even to his compromised logic, that went beyond the pale. So, 'something' it was.

Besides, he and Marinette had an understanding. Their game had become almost ritualized at this point. He kept an eye on her, played her silent hunter and provided her with things she needed (and sometimes things she didn't), leaving them on her balcony for her to find. In return, she accepted them, his gifts, his scent, his marks. She made herself _His_ , in ways that weren't completely defined but were still as unbreakable as solid steel. When she smiled at his gifts, he knew that it was just for him and her happiness satisfied him on an intimate, wholesome level.

It was a completely equivocal exchange, as far as he was concerned.

Granted, he had yet to make himself known to her. He didn't want things to get weird. ... _Weirder_ than they already were. Marinette and Adrien didn't have a relationship. She didn't _like_ talking to him. Every time he accidentally surprised her without giving her any prep time, she'd freeze up and begin to stammer and panic, like he'd do something to her. Marinette was like a rabbit, who somehow knew that he had claws. If he startled her, she'd bolt. If he didn't, she'd still check herself and every word around him. It was so uncomfortable to the point that it was easier not to bother.

If Marinette had any inkling it was him that claimed her... Well, he really didn't want to think about it.

Chat Noir might have better luck. Marinette seemed to like Chat Noir. But there was the awkward question of how the _hell_ he knew about all the things she needed. Which would inevitably lead back to him, Adrien Agreste. The constantly eavesdropping (kind of creeper) classmate that she didn't like.

Alright, maybe he wasn't as comfortable with the situation as he originally thought.

Still, it was better than the alternative.

Adrien was perfectly happy being Marinette's... something. He loved being her something. He couldn't wait for her to arrive. Every school morning was a gift, seeing her wearing his presents like treasured favors, listening to her gush over new plans and projects he helped with, watching her face light up with a smile, smelling his scent intermingled with hers...

"You're being kind of obvious, dude."

Adrien blinked out of his warm and tingly reverie. "Huh? What?" he asked stupidly, looking over to his best friend on the school bench beside him. Who was giving him a very bemused look. Had he missed something?

Nino raised an eyebrow. "Your head's been in the cloud for weeks now. ...Plus you've kind of been drooling all over Marinette."

"Droo- I don't drool! I'm not a dog!" the blond cried in near belligerent indignation.

"Whoa, okay!" Nino cried, holding up his hands in placation. "Ixnay on the oolingdray. Got it. But still! Don't tell me you're not waiting for Mari to come in right now."

Well... shit.

"...How obvious is it?" he asked warily.

"Stupid obvious to me, but I'm your best bud," Nino replied matter-of-factly. "None of the other guys have said anything, but I think they all know that she's off limits."

 _Damn right she is._ "What about Marinette?" Adrien demanded.

At this, the DJ merely scoffed. "Dude, don't ask me how that girl's mind works. I have no idea. I can't even figure Alya out half the time."

 _Gee, thanks. So helpful._ This was officially upsetting. Sickening unease flushed out whatever warmth had built up in him from his easy musings. Was he really that bad? What if Marinette noticed? What if she suspected something?

Adrien jumped as Nino slapped a hand over his back. "Wow, you've really got it bad, dude," he laughed, that _traitor._ The DJ's expression was positively sly, when he added, "Funny how the tables have turned, huh? Why don't you tell her how you feel? Just be yourself. Marinette's not going to fall in love with a statue, you know~"

Adrien blinked. "I'm not in love with her," he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. Because it was.

"You're not?" Nino said skeptically, "Because it totally looks like you are."

His lips pressed into a thin line. His feelings were heat and need, but also alien and indecipherable. Love was inadequate a word. Of course, he couldn't say such a thing to Nino. He could barely explain it to himself. "...It's complicated," he said instead, his voice softly disquiet.

At once, Nino's expression morphed from skepticism to concern. He was a good friend like that. "This doesn't have to do with your mom or anything, does it?" he asked, his voice dipping into a hushed whisper.

Once again, the blond was taken aback. "I... no? I don't think so?" _Does it?_

Before his thoughts could stumble down that Freudian sinkhole, the door opened and Alya and Marinette came into the room. As ever, she had a way of diverting his attention, overtly or otherwise. With Nino on his case, Adrien very carefully did not look directly at her, flashing a smile at the pair before he took a sudden interest in his history textbook. That didn't mean he wasn't watching. He was always watching or listening, in some way.

 _Hello Mine,_ that dark part of him purred, sending a warm ripple of pleasure through him. He looked up at her underneath his lashes, trying to discern if she was wearing a gift from him. She tended to favor the lucky clover charm bracelet-

...What was that?

What the _fucking hell_ was that?

Adrien froze, riveting in his seat, all unease and insecurity forgotten. He could smell another male all over her. _All. Over. Her._ A litany of curses flew through his mind, fighting the urge to flare up and bristle. His hands clawed on the edge of his desk, sucking in his breath before it could escape in a hiss.

This was... this was unacceptable! Who the _hell_ had to gall to scent themselves all over _His?!_ He was going to get to the bottom of this, if it was the last thing he did!

From his bag, Plagg looked up at his chosen's distressed state. "Oh, here we go," he sighed, before taking a bite of camembert. He was going to need it.

~o~

Chat Noir stared at Marinette's balcony from his usual perch atop the school roof, tail lashing as he kept vigil. It was hours after Marinette received her gift and he was very close to losing his mind. He'd only just barely managed to get through class without grabbing Marinette by the shoulders and interrogating her about her extracurriculars. Even if he was on speaking terms with her, that is not something one did in polite society... unfortunately.

So it fell on him to find out through other means. By being even more invasive than usual. Sigh. It wouldn't have come to this if she'd stayed true to him in the first place. Or so he tried to tell himself. Then all he had to do was remember the smell of the other male and he'd become angry enough to spit. (He already spent an alarming amount of time aggressively nuzzling the scarf he gave her this night.)

So far, no signs of the offending party. There was Manon for a little while, but she obviously wasn't the culprit. For the most part, Marinette was on her own, merely working quietly at her desk.

 _...God,_ this was boring. Plus watching Marinette doing her homework kept reminding him of his own languishing on his desk. (It just made his hiding spot all the more ironic.) No, no, he couldn't think about it. Did his baton have video games on it? Ooh Tetris, perfect!

After a couple of hours of managing to keep himself distracted, Chat's ears perked up when he heard Marinette finally on the move. Peering past the outcrop on the school roof, he saw the designer bundled up in his jacket and scarf hurrying down the street. Putting his baton away, he crouched over the roofline, forgoing his usual razzle-dazzle tactics to silently stalk her through the streets.

Marinette didn't go far. Two blocks down, she pulled a set of keys from her pocket and headed up into a set of flats. A tremble of alarm went through him, making him circle anxiously around the building until he found sight of her in one of the windows. A rather cozy living room on the third floor. He didn't know anyone who lived here. Who was she meeting?

Creeping closer, his alarm only grew as he watched her making herself at home, taking off his jacket and scarf, before rummaging through the cupboards of the small kitchen.

That was when Chat saw _him_ saunter into the room. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, a cold chill coming over him as he watched him slink in the kitchen and rub up against her back. And she _smiled_ as she reached back to stroke his hair. _Touching_ him.

Suddenly, unspeakable anger boiled his blood, his temperature going from subzero to volcanic in a split-second. His vision went red, spinning with the sheer force of his ire. His whole body trembled with barely restrained _hatred_ as he watched them cozy up on the couch. The bastard was nearly in her lap. No, he _was_ in her lap. He was in her fucking lap!

A low growl emanated from the back of his throat, his claws digging into the window sill as he watched the scene. Marinette didn't hear him, but the little shit did. He turned to find Chat's face peering into the window, ears pinned back and eyes spelling murder. ' _She's Mine, you asshole!'_ Chat mouthed at him, baring his canines.

His rival gave the hero a baleful look and a slow smirk, before the smug bastard proceeded to nuzzle against Marinette's cheek and shoulder. _Right in front of him._

' _I'm going to kill you!'_ Chat Noir swore. ' _You're dead! You hear me? DEAD!'_

~o~

Half a minute after Marinette left the flat, the designer realized that she'd forgotten her new scarf. Well, at least she remembered at the door, rather than all the way back at home. Sighing to herself, Marinette trudged back up to the third floor and pulled out her spare set of keys.

When she opened the door, she froze.

What she found was none other than Chat Noir dangling Theo out of the living room window by the scruff of his neck. Her partner rooted to the spot, his green eyes going wide with surprise and guilt.

"Chat... what are you doing to my neighbor's cat..." Marinette said slowly.

Just like that, Chat Noir started up again as if with an electric shock. "What? Me? Nothing! I'm not doing anything!" he said too quickly, hiding the tomcat behind his back. He flashed a bright, unconvincing smile, "Funny running into you here? Come here often?"

Theo took the opportunity to bite him, making Chat yowl and drop him. "Why you little-!" the blond hissed, his whole body arched and claws extended to pounce on him.

"CHAT NOIR!"

Once again, Chat froze up with another guilty start, allowing the cat to dash away to the safety of the bedroom. Seething, Marinette pointed to the spot in front of her. "Come here, now!" she snapped. Cowed, the blond mutely obeyed, his ears flattened and tail tucked down. Hands on her hips, Marinette looked the boy over, the flash of anger already beginning to dissipate. It didn't look like there had been any permanent harm done, attempted murder aside. "Of all the things to make you come out of hiding," she sighed, running a hand affectionately through his hair, "Jealous, much?"

Chat stiffened under her touch. Just for a second. Then, for lack of a better word, he _melted_ underneath her fingers. His eyes rolled up and closed, head tilting back as he pressed his head up encouragingly into her palm for more pets. Marinette couldn't help but smile. She'd had her suspicions since the Chat Noir t-shirt she received weeks ago, but she was very, _very_ glad to have confirmation that her patron was actually her (mostly) harmless partner after all.

Some semblance of the boy came back to Chat, looking up to her with half-lidded eyes. "Wait, you knew it was me?" he asked, his brow knitting into a frown. "How?"

"The t-shirt was a dead giveaway," Marinette replied wryly. "Plus who else could so effortlessly sneak in and out of my patio? Besides, I told nearly all of my 'special requests' only to Alya. I figured she'd filtered it to you somehow. You were getting it off the Ladyblog, right?"

At once, she began to doubt herself when Chat froze up again. "...Yup!" he said entirely too quickly, once again shifty and suspicious, "That is absolutely the only way I could have found out. You are 100% right. Gosh, you're so smart."

Marinette studied him for a long minute.

...No. No, she decided she really didn't want to know. There were times when it was best to live in blissful ignorance.

"Well, thank you for all of the gifts," she said, giving her patron a small smile. "I love every single single one of them."

"You're welcome, Mi- _Prrincess,"_ Chat breathed. He looked up at her with such _longing_ in his eyes that it was suddenly a little harder to breathe. "May I?"

Somehow knowing and _not_ knowing what she was agreeing to, Marinette nodded. She got her answer a second later, as Chat pulled her into his chest. Then he began the slow and languorous process of rubbing his cheek against her bare skin. In one sense, it was perfectly chaste. His touch never lingered anywhere inappropriate. In another sense, the rubbing, the heat, the _friction,_ was making her a little weak in the knees. Whether he realized it or not, Chat began to purr, " _Mine... mine..."_ The words rippled from his throat, laden with equal parts possession and aching affection.

Marinette let out a faint laugh. "Chat, you're a little nuts. You know that?" she grinned, trusting him not to get offended.

"I know," he replied, never looking at her as he kept rubbing, "Let me love you." Both knew it wasn't quite 'love' love. Whatever this was, it was in its own category altogether. Deep, darkly possessive, but still oddly innocent in its own way. Smiling, she reached up to run her hand through his blond locks again, eliciting even louder purrs from him.

Welp, her neighbors were just going to have to find a new catsitter.

~o~

His chosen was more incorrigible than ever.

More than ever, Adrien was ever so pleased to be Marinette's 'something.' Proudly touted it as he went over with nightly tributes, staying for hours as the designer doted on him with all the sweets and kitty affection he could handle. For Plagg, it was _exhausting._ There wasn't enough cheese in the world for these shenanigans.

The worst part of it was, the boy was completely, hopelessly _wrong_ when it came to the true nature of his relationship with Marinette. As he basked in Marinette's adoration, he kept searching for the perfect word for his 'something' title, filtering through words such as Master, Benefactor, Sovereign, Claimant, but never landing on one that fit.

Plagg could have told him he was looking in the wrong direction, if the boy ever bothered to look it up. In a way, Liege did fit best, though not in the way that Adrien thought.

Clowders weren't run by the tomcats, after all.

They were run by the queen.


End file.
